


High School

by caitastrophe8499



Series: Perpetual Feeling [1]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Teachers, F/M, High School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 21:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9403004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caitastrophe8499/pseuds/caitastrophe8499
Summary: A little AU one-shot that's been bouncing around in my head. Leonard's a high school teacher and he's about to meet his new coworker. Part 1 of a series of AUs, I hope.





	

**Author's Note:**

> “in a world  
> full of  
> temporary things
> 
> you are  
> a perpetual  
> feeling.”  
> ― Sanober Khan

 

"Professor Snart.”

Leonard glanced up at the sound of his name. Principal Rip Hunter stood in his doorway and Leonard smothered his sigh. He got to his classroom hours before school started to he’d have time to prep. Not to engage in mindless small chat.

“Principal Hunter,” he murmured, turning his attention back to his book. Leonard looked at the slim blonde standing next to Hunter. “Morning,” he said, eyeing her. Rip was clearly about to explain more, but the fire alarm started going off. Rip swore under his breath, “Rory.”

Leonard smiled and looked at the table; the PE teacher was a bit inept and had set off the alarm multiple times. So many that the school was actually getting fined by the fire department.

“Can you stay with her for a moment?” Hunter asked, already moving before Leonard could give a response. “I’ll be right back.”

Then he was gone and Leonard was left with the stranger.

Leonard looked at the woman - girl - who walked up to him. The blonde hair and dancing blue eyes couldn’t hide the impression of trouble that simmered underneath the innocent expression. Steeling himself, Leonard watched her approach.

“Morning,” she said.

He’d already said that. “New student?”

She smirked, “New teacher, actually.”

“Aren’t you a little young?”

“Aren’t you a little hot?”

His brow arched. Not because he was burdened by false modesty, he knew what he looked like, but because of her forwardness. Caught off guard, he couldn’t think of a response.

She took pity on him. “I’m the new Foreign Language teacher.”

He could work with that. “Spanish or French?”

“Both. Along with extracurricular Mandarin and Latin.”

“Four languages?” he muttered, glancing at his desk.

“Six. I also speak Arabic and German.” Her grin was self-assured.

“Why so many?” His PhD didn’t seem nearly as impressive as six languages.

“My dad was in the service. I traveled around a lot as a kid.”

He nodded, gathering up his books. She glanced at the title. “ _ Flowers of Evil _ ? Have you read it?”

Leonard glanced up, “Several times.”

“Have you ever read it in its original French?” she asked.

He met her eyes, the challenge and humor dancing in blue depths. “No.”

“Then you haven’t read it.”

With a faint incline of his head, he acknowledged her point. She grinned. “I’d be happy to give you a private lesson.” 

His smirk finally escaped. “That so?”

She nodded and glanced out as they heard Rip yelling in the hallway. “I’ll see you around, Mr. Snart.”

“Dr., actually.”

She held out her hand. “Nice meeting you, Professor.”

“And you, Mrs…?”

“Miss Lance,” she corrected. Holding his hand for just a second past appropriate, she let go and headed towards the door, casting a final grin at him over her shoulder.

Definitely trouble.

* * *

Miss Lance had made quite an impression in a very short amount of time. The male students wanted to date her, while the girls wanted to be her. Leonard caught wind of her escapades by word of mouth as they walked into his room.

“...broke a guy’s arm!”

“She’s lived everywhere, on every continent…”

“...basically a ninja.”

He hadn’t had a ton of time to speak with her outside of classes, but he was on the verge of making the effort. He'd actually planned on doing so this morning, but of course, nothing went according to plan.

Cursing the faulty internet, Leonard rubbed his eyes. He had a copy of one of Baudelaire’s poems, but he didn’t have the translation. He couldn’t exactly teach the students this poem if he didn’t have the exact translation. And he’d left his personal copy at home…

He sighed aloud and sat back in his chair, hating to have to readjust his lesson plans last minute. “Dammit,” he muttered.

“Everything okay?”

Leonard looked up, seeing Sara in his doorway. She’d taken to wearing pencil skirts and blouses which had been featuring pretty heavily in his dreams lately.

“Fine. Shit internet and no translation.” He gestured to the copy of  _ Flowers of Evil _ in annoyance.

She smirked and came into the room, dropping her bag on a desk. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m kind of a real-life translator.” She came around the back of his desk before Leonard could move, and leaned over his shoulder. “Which one?”

He moved the papers around until he found the original French copy. Sara left it on the desk and read over it quickly. Then she smiled at him, far too closely.

“Have you taught this one before?”

“No. It’s for the advanced class.”

“Oh,” she breathed with a grin. “This is advanced.” Her eyes were latched onto his and Leonard realized he was holding his breath.

Her gaze darted to the paper and she started reading, her voice a low and husky murmur, meant only for his ears.

“‘Come, superb cat, to my amorous heart;/ Hold back the talons of your paws,/ Let me gaze into your beautiful eyes/ Of metal and agate.’” Her hand was on the chair just behind his shoulder and she very deliberately moved so she made contact with him. Just a brush.

“‘When my fingers leisurely caress you,/ Your head and your elastic back,/ And when my hand tingles with the pleasure/ Of feeling your electric body,/ In spirit I see my woman. Her gaze/ Like your own, amiable beast,/ Profound and cold, cuts and cleaves like a dart.’” She looked up at him, her eyes locking on his as she recited the last lines from memory.

“‘And, from her head down to her feet,/ A subtle air, a dangerous perfume/ Floats about her dusky body.’”

Leonard’s words caught in his throat, but he cleared it once and said, “Guess I should reconsider teaching that one.”

Sara grinned, the tension fading slightly, but not the interest. “Maybe a different one,” she suggested. Her eyes dropped to his mouth and again his breath caught.

“Dr. Snart, I-”

Leonard looked at the door, seeing one of his students, Jefferson Jackson, standing with a grin on his face and a flush on his cheeks. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s fine,” Leonard said, as Sara pulled away from him, walking back to where she’d dropped her bag.

Answering Jax’s question took only a moment. Then the boy vanished, leaving Sara and Leonard alone again.

Sara smiled, pulling her bag over her shoulder. “Let me know next time you need another translation,” she said. She winked at him and turned to leave.

“Tonight. Legends Bar,” Leonard called after her.

She leaned on his door with another one of those dangerous smirks. “For a drink?”

“For a private lesson.”

“Seven sound good?” she asked.

“Perfect.” It was going to cause trouble. She was going to be trouble.

He was looking forward to it.

“See you there, Professor.”

 

* * *

 

I want to write different words for you

To invent a language for you alone

To fit the size of your body

And the size of my love.

 

I want to travel away from the dictionary

And to leave my lips.

I am tired of my mouth

I want a different one

That can change

Into a cherry tree or a matchbox,

A mouth from which words can emerge

Like nymphs from the sea,

Like white chicks jumping from the magician’s hat.

 

Take all the books

That I read in my childhood,

Take all my school notebooks,

Take the chalk,

The pens,

And the blackboards,

But teach me a new word

To hand like an earring

On my lover’s ear.

 

-Nizar Qabbani


End file.
